"We want a long calm," said the mate that evening, as we lay on the
glassy sea.
"You will have it," said Captain Berriman, and so it proved.
We saw the enemy, as he was called by all, pacing up and down the
poop-deck hastily, and scanning the offing with a spy-glass, as if in
search of approaching vessels or of clouds that promised wind, but
neither came, dark night fell once more, and Mr Brymer ordered the oars
out and we were rowed round to the other side of the ship, from which
position we could see a light faintly shining from the little round
cabin-window where we knew Miss Denning to be.
Mr Frewen had been carefully attending Walters; Dumlow had declared he
was "quite well, thank ye," and the captain was lying patiently waiting
for better days, too weak to stir, but in no danger of losing his life;
and now Mr Brymer and the two gentlemen sat together talking in a low
voice, and at the same time treating me as one of themselves, by
bringing me into the conversation.
It was a weird experience there in the darkness, with the only sounds
heard the shouts and songs of the ship's crew, for they were evidently
feasting and drinking.
"And thinking nothing of to-morrow," said Mr Preddle, sadly.
"No, sir, and that is our opportunity," said Mr Brymer. "Let them
drink; they have plenty of opportunity, with the cases of wine and the
quantity of spirits on board. We could soon deal with them after one of
their drinking bouts; but the mischief is that Jarette is a cool,
calculating man, and sober to a degree. He lets the men drink to keep
them in a good humour, and to make them more manageable. He touches
very little himself."
"What do you propose doing?" said Mr Frewen, suddenly. "We must act at
once."
"Yes; I feel that, sir," replied Mr Brymer, "but can either of you
suggest a plan?"